


The wild rose

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I'm not sure I'm even gonna finish this fic beware, Why I am even doing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Petyr works for Velvet, one of Westeros most famous magazines. Sansa Stark is young fashion student and blogger, living in King's Landing with her little tomboy sister Arya. She makes quite an impression on the man on their first meeting ...This fic is going to be a pretty cliché one because sometimes people need to write and read easy things.And the fic name's is referencing another Nick Cave's song, the duet with Kylie Minogue, "Where the wild roses grow".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No smut this time !  
> I'm still french, still writing in english so there's still mistakes.
> 
> And an important note : in english you use the expression " a little bird told me" but in french it's "mon petit doigt m'a dit" which translates as "my little finger told me". And I used the literal french translation because it suited Petyr more, giving his nickname a new meaning.

Was she coming at his desk ? Was she ? Yes, she was. She definitely was. It was marvelous how she managed to walk with those killer heels. He really, really hoped nobody would have his foot stepped on by that. He had others things to do than call 911 today.

 

«- Don't you look happy to see me, Petyr, smirked Cersei once she was standing in front of him.

\- Ecstastic, dear. Don't you have things to do for the September issue ? Young fashion assistants to torment ? Underage models to call ?

\- I was supposed to interview that Instagram blogger, there, y'know … the Dorne girl. Well, seems like she had some problems with her boyfriend and doesn't want any publicity. People even talk about her stopping her blogging activities. Sooo I had to find another 'internet sensation' to put in the fashion pages, she breathed. And seems like your almost-ex-girlfriend daughter's is getting pretty famous lately.

\- I suppose you're talking about Catelyn.

\- Why, you have anothers almost-ex-girlfriends ? As if you weren't miserable enough. So, that girl – Sansa Stark – is studying at King's Landing Fashion School and-

\- And you, the fashion editor-in-chief, throught it was a good idea to ask the society editor-in-chief to … interview a young fashionista ? Petyr ironised.

\- No, you won't interview her, God forbids that. You'll just help one of my trainees. I'm sure Sansa remembers her 'Uncle Petyr' and as she seems pretty shy, she'll be more at ease with you around.

\- And I suppose I can't refuse ?

\- No. Stop playing on your phone pretending to work. Leah will be waiting for you in the hall in half an hour.

\- I just love when you considerate me and my work so much.

\- My pleasure, Littlefinger. Now, I must leave you, I have … how did you say ? Young fashion assistants to torment. »

* * *

 

 

«- Let me stay with you ! Pleaded Arya, jumping up and down next to her sister.

\- No ! That's my first big interview. I mean, it's not a regional newspaper, it's **_Velvet_**   ! answered Sansa somewhat impatiently. Gimme the eyelashes curler, please.

\- What is _that_ even supposed to be ? mumbled her sister, looking at all the make up props on the vanity table. I can behave, you know. You seem to think of me like a messy pup who shits everywhere when you're gone !

\- Thanks for the poetic image Arya. Now go- The door ! she gasped, hearing the doorbell.

\- I'LL GET IT !

\- NO YOU- ! … Guess it's too late ...

 

Sansa stood up and took a deep breath. _It's all going to be fine. It will be fine. Just be nice, smile and answer the questions. And go quickly to the lounge before Arya says something embarrassing !_

She hurried off her room, hearing a man's voice. Well, she wasn't expecting that. Well, sure, she didn't believe at 100% that Cersei Lannister herself would come interview her, but a man ?

 

« Well, don't you just look like your mother now ! »

 

Sansa stopped for a moment, staring at the man who just told her these words. He wasn't very tall and his hair were going gray at the sides. But his eyes had a bright light of wit in them and he was wearing an impeccable suit and tie. But what caught her eye was the mockingbird gold pin he had on his chest.

 

« - Oh ! You are … Mister Baelish ! she remembered with a smile. I hadn't seen you in years.

\- Yes, since you were twelve, I think ? You are, what ? … eighteen now ? And please, call me Petyr.

\- Alright ! I know you work for Velvet but … why did they sent you, in all people ?

\- Well, my beloved colleague Cersei Lannister is aware that we somewhat know each other and that you're a shy young woman. And she thought it was best I come along with Leah, one of her trainees. Or slaves, depending of who you ask, he grinned while introducing the young soon-to-be journalist.

\- Do you want lemonade or anything Petyr ? Leah ? Sansa ? yelled Arya from the kitchen.

\- Lemonade will be all fine for all of us. Thanks ! he answered back, sitting in the sofa after Sansa invited him to do so.

\- Is that tomboy your sister ? asked Leah, baffled.

\- Yes. That's my little sister, Arya. She's fifteen and she's playing rugby sevens at the Stag Highschool. She's aiming to be captain next year.

\- _Ambition !_ I like that ! smiled Petyr, taking the lemonade glass Arya was giving him. You came all the way here from the North for that ?

\- Yes ! Best rugby sevens team, and I'm the best underage player in all Westeros. Don't gimme that look sis', you know I'm good ! she winked. I'm also taking up fencing.

\- So you're fencing and she's fancy ?

\- Exactly ! Now, if you excuse me, I have some history lessons to learn. Don't traumatize my sister, and hope I'll see you around, Petyr ! »

 

And then she was gone and everything was silent for a few moments. Leah gave a little cough then took an expensive camera and an audio recorder from her bag, putting them on the table next to the lemonade glasses.

 

« It won't take long, promise. You can relax a little bit, nobody is going to eat you. Don't you make a joke about the fashion trainees not eating, Baelish, it's not funny, she said with a dour glare at him.

\- Alright, alright ! I'll just stay here and behave. Promise.

\- You better. Ready Miss Stark ?

\- Yes, she answered after a deep breath and putting a bright smile on her face. Ready . »

 

Yes, she was Sansa Stark, from the blog Princess of the North, daughter of Ned Stark, deputy of Winterfell and life-long friend of the recently deceased Robert Baratheon, King's Landing mayor. She turned eighteen the last spring, and had loved fashion since forever blahblahblah hoping to have her own clothing line blahblah my family means a lot to me blahblahblah began her blog at sixteen with her sister helping taking the pictures blahblahblah it was getting somewhat boring.

 

So she was living on her own and taking care of her underage sister at only eighteen, with both studying at first-league schools ? Well, no wonder. The Starks were quite wealthy, after all. They didn't have to worry about the tuition fees, nor the rent or everything, really. No side jobs and no parents to watch over them.

 

Oh, if he was eighteen and rich, he wouldn't have been as calm and quiet as Sansa Stark seemed to be. Now, he was too old for that. He tend to have hangovers easily after he reached his forties. But she was so young and pretty, with flaming red hair and big bright eyes. And that smile, boy ! A lot of men must have been dazzled by that smile, and Petyr was one of them.

 

He listened distractely to the two young women talking pleasantly, all eyes on Sansa.

She had a strong ressemblance with young Catelyn Tully, no need to deny here. But her face was rounder, softer than the angular traits of her mother. Like her, she looked so full of life and kindness, untouched by the evils of the world. It almost seemed like a light was coming from her, touching everyone around.

 

Did he deserved it ?

Certainly not.

 

Now she was posing for Leah and her camera, not even looking like she was posing. Her smile and her freshness were natural and genuine. She was far more beautiful than the posh models or bloggers he had encountered in his life. Was it because of her young age ? She was barely more than a child. Sansa Stark turned eighteen just a few months ago but he could sense it.

She had _something_.

A strength.

A presence.

 

And his little finger was telling him that she will be needing it soon.

 

He let himself be escorted out of the flat and in the cab that led them back to the Velvet headquarters. Petyr went straight back to his private office, slamming the door behind him.

 

The first thing he did was opening his computer and typing Sansa Stark's blog adress.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bald man, a purple shirt and an Instagram pic.

Petyr scrolled down Sansa's profile on his smartphone. She retweeted the Velvet's article about her a couple of times, sometimes adding excited comments about it.

 

«  _Can't believe Velvet interviewed me  !_ » «  _Thank you so much  !_   »  and so on.

 

He already read the article three times. The most striking part of it was the picture of Sansa smiling on her sofa, a girly garland hanged on the wall just behind her, gently coloring her face with a pale pink light. He was staring at it once more when his phone vibrated  : an incoming call.

 

With a grunt, he picked it up.

 

«  - Rise and shine my little mockingbird  !

\- Varys it's fucking **SUNDAY**.

\- I know it's Sunday and I know we're supposed to meet in half an hour for a brunch. I suppose you forgot about it  ? he asked, already knowing the answer.

\- Mmm … Yeah, Littlefinger moaned, getting to his bathroom. I'll take a quick shower and I'll join you at _Chez Louise_ as usual.

\- Don't be late. Well, don't be _too_ late at least. See you.  »

 

* * *

Wearing a purple shirt with a grey suit, his usual mockingbird pin on his left side, Petyr quickened his steps while getting out of the tramway. He finally saw the facade of _Chez Louise_ , a cosy place known for his gluten free pancakes, his impressive selection of teas and other shit hipsters liked (so did he, but he wouldn't never admit it out loud). He went inside, asked for Varys then went to the terrace in the courtyard where his friend was waiting for him.

 

Wait, was Varys his friend  ? This bald guy who always knew everything before it seemed to have ever happened  ?

 

«  - I already ordered. Coffee for you, white tea for me, blueberry pancakes for us. Plus some caramel to put on yours. Did you wanted anything else  ? inquired Varys, not raising his eyes from his own smartphone, scrolling and changing apps, as quick as lightning.

\- No, that's fine. What's new in gossip land  ? Wait, are we wearing the same shirt  ? noticed Petyr with distress.

\- Seems so. One of us is going to have to change. And as you're late, it should be you, smiled Varys, putting his phone on the table.

\- Hell, no  ! Purple suits me way more than it does for you.

\- Then we'll look like one of those couples in the East. It's trend there to have matching outfits. How cute do we look ! Thank you, he said to the waiter giving them their order. Oh  ! he said, eyebrows rising after taking a look behind Petyr. Wait for me here.  »

 

Littlefinger began eating his pancakes, dropping some caramel on them before munching. Delicious. He didn't care much about what Varys was doing  : the man probably noticed someone he knew. He knew everyone in the damn city. He knew probably more people than Cersei herself. He was the real-life equivalent of Gossip Girl - wait no, Gossip Guy then. His blog, Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat were followed by thousands, and he was the ultimate socialite, always hanged to his phone like a drowning man to a lifebelt.

 

« … And he thinks purple suits him better  ! That's why we need a judge to tell who's right and who's wrong and you, my dear Princess of the North, are the perfect choice to answer his crucial question  !  »

 

_My dear Princess of the North ?_

 

« - That's no bother, really !

\- You're so sweet ! How are your parents by the way ?

\- Well Dad is always really busy with his work and he is not … he's not at his best lately with Robert's loss …

\- I can only imagine his pain. They have been friends for so long … Petyr, look who's there ! Westeros' favorite fashion blogger ! I think you already know each other, right ? winked Varys, Sansa Stark at his side.

\- Yes, actually. It's the second time we meet this week, she answered with a light laugh.

\- Really ? said Varys, and Petyr knew he was faking not knowing this fact.

\- Yes, Mister Baelish came with the journalist who interviewed me.

\- It's a small world. And do you think purple is his color or mine ? »

 

So he was sitting in front of an half-eaten pancake, maybe with caramel on his moustache, while Varys and Sansa were standing just next to him. It felt awkward, being the only one on a chair.

 

She hummed while scanning Varys outfit then Petyr's. She seemed to take a bit more time staring at Littlefinger or maybe it was just his imagination. She watched his shirt, and slowly raised her eyes. They stopped at his throat. He swallowed, striken by her bright eyes and her deep stare, his Adam's apple moving. Time stopped. After a moment, they both took a soft breath, so soft it went unnoticed.

 

« Well, sorry to tell you, exclaimed Sansa with a smile, but I think it's Mister Baelish's color. But it still looks good on you.

\- Ooh right. Can't blame you. He's quite an handsome man… Even if a little bit too old for you, smirked Varys.

\- I should go back to my friends. Have a nice day.

\- You too Miss Stark ! »

 

Varys complained a bit about his tea water getting cold, without getting a response from his friend.

 

Wait, was Petyr his friend ? That smirking moustached guy ?

 

« - Am I that old ? he suddenly asked, putting his fork and knife on the table.

\- Sorry ?

\- Am I that old Varys ? I'm barely 42.

\- Don't, he commanded with a stern voice.

\- Don't what ?

\- Don't ever think about … making out with a girl that's barely of age ! he hushed, his voice low. Are you _insane_  ?

\- Are you, what, my mother now ?

\- Petyr ! That's just creepy. You're like an uncle to her. You almost were her mother's boyfriend !

\- Yes, _almost_.

\- Are you sure you don't see her like a Catelyn number 2 more than you see her like Sansa Stark ? Like you're trying to have a second chance with her mother through her ?

\- Wow, that's deep, exposed Petyr while sipping his coffee. Did you read some Freud lately ?

\- You barely know that girl !

\- I never said I would make a move _now_.

\- Thank Gods for that. You better chill a bit before making anything stupid. Like trying to go out with your almost ex-girlfriend's daughter who just turned eighteen. How do you think Ned and Catelyn Stark would react ? uttered Varys.

\- You're such a killjoy my friend, declared Petyr.

\- Well seems like one of us has to think straight and be reasonable.

\- And that would be you ? Really ? Seriously, stop splitting my hair with that.

\- It's not like I can split mine.

\- You saw how she looked at me through.

\- Yes, I did. But you already know that you're a good-looking guy with wits and humor. Young as she is, no wonder she's got a crush on you. Just don't play on it. Please, he pleaded in a breath.

\- I promise. But only because you've never complimented me like this before. »

 

* * *

 

Sansa closed her laptop, her work for the week finally done. With a sigh, she laid on her bed. Yawned. Scratched her scalp.

 

Then she saw Baelish's throat appear behind her eyes.

She let out a quiet gasp, taken aback. She sat down, legs crossed, and stared at her window, at the car's lights on the street, at the people walking under the light rain.

 

 _Why did I watch him like this ? He must have noticed ! He must think I'm a pervert with a throat kink ! I must have looked so stupid !_  she despaired internally, shoving her face in her palms. _Stupid stupid stupid stupid !_

 

«- Sorry to interrupt you in the middle of an existential crisis sis' but … Are you going to take a bath first or can I go in the bathtub now ? asked Arya with a frown.

\- Yeah, fine.

\- …. You didn't really answered.

\- I'll go after you.

\- What's wrong ?

\- Hmmm … Nothing ! _You will think I'm stupid too if I tell you. And that he's too old for me._

\- Sure ? insisted her sister.

\- Sure.

\- Sure _sure_  ?

\- Yes.

\- Sure sure **SURE**  ??

\- Arya just get in your damn bath or I'll kick you with a pillow.

\- Such threat very violent wow, laughed Arya before leaving the room.

\- AND DON'T EVER DO THE DOGE MEME AGAIN IT'S GETTING OLD ! »

 

* * *

 

«  SANSA ! CAN I COME IN ? »

 

She just immerged herself in the warm water when her sister yelled from the other side of the door. Will she ever get a moment of peace ?

 

« - Why now ? You spent almost an hour in the bath !

\- Well YOU do spend a lot more than an hour in the bath and I don't use it against you. But seriously, I need to get in. I'm on my period and need a pad. And maybe to pee a bit.

\- Fine ! I just hope you didn't bleed in the bath. »

 

Arya went in, grab a pad from the cabinet under the bathroom sink and watched her sister without a blink, her period protection in her hand. With a groan, Sansa pulled the bathtub/shower curtain and let put her pad and pee with a little intimacy.

 

She grabbed her phone and scrolled her gallery. She went to a thrift shop earlier and tried a dress she didn't buy. She wasn't sure that indigo color suited her. It highlighted her ginger hair but on the other hand …. maybe it highlighted it a little bit too much ?

 

She uploaded it on her Instagram with the caption :

 

«   _I'm not sure about that dress. It's cute but doesn't it make me look too … ginger ? I mean I love my hair color but I still remember some old schoolmates calling me Carrothead ..._  »

and linked it to her Twitter.

 

She heard Arya say behind the curtain :

 

«This dress is cool. Your hair are cool. You're cool. And I didn't bleed in the bath. »

 

Aaaand she was gone. Sansa put her phone on silent mode and finally enjoyed a peaceful time. When she got out the bathtub, put on her pajamas and dried her hair, she had more than forty notifications from both social medias.

 

One of them stood out.

A tweet.

 

« _Well, seems like purple is your color too !_  »

 

Her heart missed a beat when she saw the profile picture : she clicked on it.

 

_**Petyr Baelish** (@PBaelish)_

 

_Velvet's society editor-in-chief – Better dressed than you – I'm not old, I'm vintage._

 

She smirked at his bio and took a look at his tweets. A lot of retweets from Velvet's official account, some pictures of places he visited for articles some tweets about cultural and fashion news. Very few private ones.

 

He posted a new one just as she was closing the app.

It was a picture of him in his purple shirt and grey suit, a selfie took in a fancy elevator. He was winking. He added a text saying :

 

«  _That shirt has been @PrincessStark approved. Sorry @VarysOff I look better in it than you !_ »

 

She laughed then clasped her hand on her mouth.

Should she answer ? Retweet ? Follow him ?

 

« Well once you're done laughing with your hilarious friends shampoo and facial mask, come for dinner. Mac'n'cheese ! »

 

Maybe she should eat first.

Yes, she'll see after dinner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SISTERLY LOVE !


End file.
